Closed Stars Above [Sigfrid]

[Bennar Witt]

35th of Spring, 515 A.V.
Surya Plaza

Well underway was the thaw of the past winter. Spring was edging in, with her charming life renewed. Small birds chased each other through the air, weaving expertly between tall, stony Lhavitian towers. But not tonight. They slept tonight. And the people of Lhavit thrived! Throngs of pedestrians ambled chaotically through the many delights of the Surya Plaza. Couples walked the wide stones of the promenade, with the air of the tourist. Never a goal in mind save to experience the sensation of the place. Others hurried through the wide nexus of Lhavitian activity to business meetings or arranged meals in one of the many restaurants. Merchants shouted their wares, or haggled stubbornly with those whose attention they snatched up.

Benji walked through it all with a faint smile on his face. This was the center of the city he now called home. This was the true heart of it all. He stepped past a few couples sitting at a fountain, the romantic backdrop ideal for youthful, hushed courting. The Alvadan was not interested in such activities however, and barely spared them a passing glance as he approached a hot tea vendor and debated on whether or not to give the wizened old woman his patronage. Her tea did have a pleasant aroma, one that he found he could not go without.

In the space of a few moments he had palmed over two topaz Kina in exchange for a small wooden cup filled to the brim with steaming Lhavitian tea. In Alvadas he had grown up drinking tea from Lhavitian tea leaves, dried and brought to Ionu’s city over the Suvan. But the fresh thing was something entirely different.

He smiled as he let the hot liquid, with a hint of sweetness, wet his throat. He let his eyes rise to the nighttime sky. Zintila’s high mountain city was ever equipped to gaze upon the many and brilliant stars of the sky. It was high atop the peaks of some of Kalea’s proudest mountains. No doubt this was the whole point of the locale. Benji sighed out the heat from his first taste of the fresh tea and walked over to a bench to sit. The old stone gave no protest as he plopped easily down upon it.

The rest of Lhavit walked on, ignoring his silent observations. He sipped his tea and watched the people come and go. In his mind he found elaborate stories to go along with them. It was a way he amused himself when there was not else. Probably it was due to his mother’s artistic and performer’s influence. The story was always better with a bit of embellishment.

Zintila’s graces were sprawled out across the sky, twinkling a silent laughter down upon the Benji and the other mere mortals. Benji found himself leaning back and gazing up at the star-strewn sky. Leth’s own bright visage also bled light down on him. In that moment he felt like all the stress and upheaval of his past few seasons melted with the winter’s chill. His move from Alvadas to Lhavit, his loss of Lori, his father’s downward spiral, all were nothing in contrast to the beauty and life of the Surya Plaza under Zintila’s stars. How could he possibly be somewhere other than the proper place right at that moment?

Benji watched the passers-by and sipped his hot tea, luxuriating in the night.

[Sigfrid]

Brushing the panes aside, a cool breeze pushed through the newly created opening with gentle impatience, jolting the Ethaefal awake. Having only now crawled out of bed from dusk rest, her limbs still heavy with sleep, Sigfrid was still not quite ready to start her night. Instead, she pulled her blanket taut over bare shoulders, enveloping her pale body in a cocoon of warmth. Leaning against the window frame, her eyes naturally floated upwards toward Him, gaze transfixed by the delicateness of His light. Leth guide me She hummed, lids fluttering shut as she attempted yet again to remember the days by His side. Like the times before, it was a fruitless endeavour, one that only served to leave a bitter taste. Hurriedly, she dismissed the feeling, fearing its festering growth. She was His, even now in this mortal realm with its disease and strife, she was His. Shutting away her thoughts, Sigfrid freed her hands by releasing their grip on the sheet, allowing it to fall to the floor. When she leaned to grab hold of the handles, the sound of frantic fumbling soon followed. Curious, the Lethborn peered down, silvery gaze scanning the street below. A young boy, not much more than a decade old had his hands sprawled outward in an attempt to stop the scrolls of paper from rolling away in the wind. Their eyes met, but only for a second before his own fell downward. Confused, she asked. "Are you alright? Would you like some help?" A noticeable stiffening of the young scholar's body could be seen even from her distance. Quickly, he shook his head before proceeding to quickly pick up the rest of the papers. It was not until the Ethaefal retreated into the depths of her room that she realized that it was her bare form that startled the reserved Lhavitian, to which she could only respond with a small chuckle. Slowly, she eased into a state of productivity, beginning first with her harp. With a gentle hand, she uncovered the instrument from its covering before removing it from its pouch with a practiced motion. Setting it between her thighs, Sigfrid then reached over to the end table for the dry cloth. Beginning from the part of the harp furthest from her body, she gently dusted the wooden frame. As she polished the material, she sung a hymn quietly to herself. Her Shiber, worse now than perhaps ever before, lacked the smooth enunciation of those who spoke it as their mother tongue. Worse yet, the very song she sung was not understood by her, but was merely something she had overheard a child sing in the streets one day. It was very likely that she was not even singing it correctly, but still the Lethaefal continued, transporting herself to the warm sands of Yahebah once more. A journey no longer taken as often as she continues to take on the Lhavitian culture as her own. It was a sacrifice that she was not even aware of, a loss of a precious memory to be replaced with the desire of belonging. Moving on, she then reached for the tuning fork kept in the drawer of the same end table and struck the handle end against her knee. Holding the same area of the fork to the soundboard of the harp, the sound then resonated much louder just as though it one of the strings were plucked. Although Sigfrid was not knowledgeable in reading music or about notes at all, she had a good ear (one could argue that perhaps tuning in her mortal seeming would be better for just this reason) and had been taught well. She plucked the matching string and easily heard the difference between the pitches and began twisting at the tuning pin accordingly. After a few more trials, she had finished with the one string, setting her tuning fork aside. From then on, it became a matter of tuning by cycle of fifths, though Sigfrid was unaware of what this method was actually called. She proceeded to play a higher pitched string and matched the harmony with the tuned string and another, lower pitched string. Cycling through each collection of threes, or chords, the Ethaefal eventually completed the tuning process. As usual, she then checked by playing a series of candences. The first was simply I, IV, V, followed by a few others that she had memorized. Finding a few strings to be not quite tuned, she returned to the comparison method with the other strings, cycling through the related strings afterward as reassurance. The process was lengthy but daily practice made it less of a chore and much quicker than imagined. As she finished up, Sigfrid could feel the narrowing of certain strings and made a mental note to find replacements in the plaza. Soon afterward, dressed and with kinas in hand, the Ethaefal began her stroll in the bustling plaza. Her destination was clear, but it didn't hurt to take her time in getting there. Under the His light, she felt revitalized as she breathed in the scent of a fresh aroma. Pausing, she searched for the source, finding it to be the tea in a young man's hand. He was pale, with bird-like features beneath a crown of thick brown hair, appearing as relaxed as any other Lhavitian. However, Sigfrid did not go this long in this city without gaining the ability to spot foreigners. Despite this man's middle class garb, she could tell that he was from afar, how far she had yet to learn. With an easy gait, she approached, growing ever more curious as she caught sight of the scar marring his face. "Pardon my intrusion, but may I join you?" The Ethaefal asked, sitting only when given the acknowledgement. She would sit quietly for a time, joining in his apparent observation of others and of the night sky. "Lhavit is rather beautiful, perhaps the closest one could get to the higher realm." Sigfrid spoke softly but audibly, just loud enough to be heard but not so much that it would be jarring. "What of your home?" She asked, her eyes reflecting the nearby light with a silver tinge, almost as an emphasis to her contained curiosity.

[Bennar Witt]

The night sky presented a beautiful subject of his attention, but his mind was in a flighty mood. Eventually Benji took to people watching. He observed his fellow citizens with something of an academic eye. One of his brothers, Sal, was quite fascinated with people, and dedicated most of his time to studying them. He might not have stirred a passion for the same in Benji, but he did stir an interest. The Alvadan’s eyes followed each passerby as they went about their business. His mind wondered what role each played in the city.

He was shaken from the scrutiny of a plump merchant when he heard a woman’s voice from right next to him. He looked up to see a woman of other-worldly beauty standing before him. Pale and silver of hair, and soft of feature, she stared at him. Her face bore a politely expectant expression that he could only blink at for a moment. But her temples bore horns, white ones with lavender tips. An all too recent memory brushed his mind. He stood without really thinking about it and bowed low.

“Of course. Any eth-“ He tried to recall the name Alses had given to her race those days prior. “Any Ethaefal is welcome to sit with me." Benji realized he was flustered. He tried to surreptitiously compose himself as he reseated himself and turned back to this woman.

She noticed him looking at the sky clearly, for her next statement had been one of the heavens while he scrambled for something to say. The city was indeed close to the divine, with all these blessed creatures walking about it. He had found himself in the presence of divinity, or rather, the shadow of divinity much more in the past few weeks than ever before in his life. He glanced back up at the sky at her whispered statement.

“Yes, close enough to know how far away it is, I dare say.” He smiled in what he hoped came across as good nature. “Present company an exception, of course.”

Her next question caught him off guard. But it shouldn’t have. Alses had been very observant during their meeting, why not this second blessed lady? Still, he could not contain his surprise when he found Lhavitians to easily tell he was from elsewhere.

“My home? I am from Alvadas, where illusion is revered rather than such plainly evident beauty as the moon and stars.” Benji made a broad gesture that encompassed the city and the sky together. “I miss it sometimes. My family still lives there, to my knowledge.” He added, with a dark undertone that he had not meant.

The young mage glanced over at the beautiful woman next to him and searched for more to say. “How long have you been in the city? I’ve heard it was founded by some…of your kind. I’d imagine that could be reason to come here, though the trip is a tough one.”

He sipped the almost forgotten tea in his hands. The hot liquid warmed his throat and chest again, thawing the minor night-time chill from him. “That or this tea.” He said with a sideways grin.

As they spoke Lhavitians moved across the promenade of the Plaza with little more than a glance their way. Benji found it odd that they were not awed by the presence of one of the divinely favored. Perhaps they had grown used to such sights in their years growing up in the Jewel of Kalea, but he had not. Such blessed individuals, not to mention beautiful individuals, were still a subject of curiosity to him.

The world is indeed large. Would these Lhavitians marvel at the illusionists that reside in Alvadas? Or the earthen arms of the Isur? His thoughts made him feel suddenly very small in the world. My insignificance here is disconcerting, I must strive to change that.

[Sigfrid]

Sigfrid was somewhat surprised by the young man's bow, finding it odd that he considered her worthy of such a gesture. She had dismissed it however, filing it away as a traveler's awe of the Ethaefal. After all, should she meet a creature with a greater connection than she with the divine, with Leth, she too would wish to show her respect in some form. “Yes, close enough to know how far away it is, I dare say.” She smiled, not quite as wide as she'd like, as she peeled her silvery gaze from the vast night sky. Sigfrid turned to face the stranger, but only allowing a bashful yet bitter smile before her attention was once again pulled upwards. She breathed in the cool air, taking in all she could from her surroundings, feeling the tug of the world as it expanded around her. "It is both the curse and gift of Lhavit, teasing in its beauty. " He then added, “Present company an exception, of course.” to which Sigfrid could only laugh, a soft sound that, despite its sweetness, seemed thin. "I sometimes wonder if that is really the case." The Ethaefal paused, catching herself. What did she just say? It almost sounded as though she had given up, lost hope in some way. A dry swallow followed, forcing itself down her throat. Worse still, she was bringing a depressing air into the conversation that she could not allow. She couldn't have this man walk away from this interaction with such a dampened feeling. However, before Sigfrid could formulate a phrase to help lift the mood, the traveler continued and to her relief, seemed unaffected. As he told her of his home, the name all too familiar to her ears, the Ethaefal began to remember memories of her short time there. Despite some interactions with the locals, she had not learned much about the city's culture there, focused as she was on accumulating the mizas needed to continue her journey here to the city in the sky. Sigfrid was of course, not shy about her curiosity. "I have been there, about 3 years ago now. It was a very jarring experience to say the least." She cringed playfully before releasing her expression into one of nostalgia. "I did not have a chance to learn more about the city however, has any changed? " Sigfrid, in realizing what she said, grinned knowingly. "Of course it has, the city of illusion waits for none." "Staying at the Wolf's Den was a learning experience, meeting races that I have only heard of in whispers." Momentarily, the Ethaefal had forgotten how strange it was for one of her kind to stay in such a wilderness themed tavern, forgetting that she and Nala should be two and not one. Her gaze then followed his sweeping gesture, a smile tickling at her lips as he mentioned his family. Yet a darker tone than expected caused Sigfrid to reevaluate his words, her body releasing in an exhale of muscles as her posture softened. "Do you miss them, your family? Kin seems to be a rather precious thing, or so the Benshirans believed." The Ethaefal was then questioned herself, a position she did not particularly enjoy. Not because she wished to hide her past in any sense, but that the attention was focused on her and not him. Sigfrid wished to learn more about the stranger, preferring not to waste his time with her unimportant tales. "Nearly two years now. What about yourself?" The Ethaefal paused, remembering only now. "In fact, what should I call you? The 'tea drinking stranger' is a bit too common to use." She attempted to bring to focus back to him with every inquiry, allowing the conversation to continue to relative ease. "The trip was treacherous, particularly the Unforgiving which is very aptly named. And really, that was the only reason I came to Lhavit, to find my kind. Yet, I wonder if I truly belong with my own. I think the beauty of Lhavit is what has kept me captive all this time, be it the skyglass or the hearts of its people." As she spoke, the stranger sipped his tea, the unique aroma and warmth reminding her of Sharai, and the promise she made to herself to find time to visit the famous peak. When the stranger grinned, she too reflected his expression, finding that she was beginning to enjoy his company. "Speaking of which, what are you drinking? I have never been a drinker of tea though Lhavit has tried to change this, and with great success."

[Bennar Witt]

“You have visited Alvadas! I hope it was not too displeasurable for you. The city can take some getting used to, I’ll admit.” Benji found himself smiling. No matter how bitter his departure from the family was, the city of Alvadas was and would always be the first thing that came to mind when he thought of home. The wildly mysterious nature of the city made him feel like there was some personal connection, some secret he shared with the very brick of the city. Like Ionu connected with each of the people, in their imagination. “It is changing even as we speak. No mortal man can hope to know the city completely.”

She continued on about her stay in the City of Illusion, her voice taking on an air of nostalgia. Then she smiled and inquired after his family. It was to be expected, that question of family. But it was always a struggle to get past with strangers. He nodded and shrugged, forcing a flashed smile. “I miss them a great deal. My family was so much of my life before I came here, that it feels a part of my soul is still there in Alvadas with them. My mother used to practice her parts for us. She was an actress and singer for some of the local troupes. Modest stuff really, but quite enjoyable to listen to in the evening.” Benji rubbed the side of his head.

At her inquiry about his name, Benji felt himself smiling bashfully. Of course, his name should have been the first thing he said. “Ah, I am called Benji Witt, son to Erasmo and Lorita Witt. I do think ‘tea drinking stranger’ holds more mystery though, don’t you?” Benji struck a pose on the bench, feeding off her own joke.

Benji watched her carefully as she told of her trip through the Undergiving. She seemed to have some great uncertainty about her that irked him. If someone so graceful and blessed by one such as Leth could be unsure of the world, what did that bode for him? Surety is a fool’s plea, you dolt. Better to ride the waves and make of fate what you will. The thought was his, but the voice was his brother Ennio’s. Ennio had been a harsh sibling, but invaluable. He had been the one to truly show Benji what it meant to embrace life, the good and the bad. Nevertheless, that was a distinctly mortal viewpoint. Benji still felt a pang of sorrow as he heard Sigfrid’s words of belonging. It was a sentiment he could understand.

“Family is over-rated!” He said easily, leaning back and gazing out over the people of Lhavit. “But what of you? None you would name family? Do these Bensdhirans you know of have some special place in the heart for you?” Benji tried to remember all he knew of Benshirans. He vaguely recalled his father saying they were desert people, and that he had met one or two in Anhatep when he was trading there as a young merchant’s apprentice. “I know very little of Benshirans. They are of the desert, no?”

As he raised the hot, steaming cup of tea to his mouth she asked him about it. “Oh, this is from the nice old tea vendor over there. She is quite charming, so long as you have the Kina ready when you approach and move quickly away after you pay.” He said this last from over his cup as he leant back against the bench. He winked slyly at her. “You know how it is, hard life for an honest merchant in this city.” He took another sip and sighed lengthily as the heat touched his chest again.

“I’ve drank tea all my life, but none so good as this.” He admitted after a moment. Save perhaps Mhakula’s. “Beauty seems a good enough reason to stay in a place, I suppose.” He nodded, returning to her previous words. “For me, I think it’s money. Or rather, a lack thereof.” A look of mild discomfort came across his face when he raised the subject of his finances. “What’s more for we simple folk, save the struggle?”

[Bee]

Don't forget to edit/delete your grade request. If there's anything I may have missed, please PM me and I'll BEE happy to look into it.

 

Benji

Skills

• Socialization +2
• Observation +2

Lores

• Lore: Sigfrid: Ethaefal
  Lore: Nighttime company

 

Sigfrid

Skills

• Socialization +1
• Observation +2

Lores

• Lore: Bennar Witt: From Alvadas
  Lore: Nighttime Company

Comments: None!